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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27254215">Death by Morning Glory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters'>jessequicksters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Devil's Coven [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Constantine (TV), Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU (Comics), Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Crossover, Lucifer is lowkey (re: HIGHKEY) embarrassed about it, M/M, Morning After, Multi, Post-Coital, Praise Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:42:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>839</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27254215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessequicksters/pseuds/jessequicksters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John’s good with his tongue. Everyone and their grandmother with a ghost problem know that. It’s the simplest of words, really, that really gets to Lucifer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (TV)/Zatanna Zatara (Background)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Devil's Coven [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Death by Morning Glory</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>we're back! I just wanted to write a soft thing with these two</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Devil wakes up with a satisfying crack rolling down his spine. Stomach down on the wine-purple sheets, he’s still not ready to get up. He’s not tired, no—the Devil could indulge himself in his desires for eons without a wink of sleep, but he has other limits, he’s learned.</p><p>A wave of fear startles him to turn his head to the side – to catch a glance at the ghost of someone from the night before. But he doesn’t find a ghost at all. He finds a man, of full-bodied flesh, fast asleep with his face buried in the half-torn pillow. Right, that was Lucifer’s fault.</p><p>Strange as it might be, Lucifer actually starts feeling flashes of heat overcoming him. And while this gothic mansion they were staying at may be its own Hell in itself, the Devil shouldn’t exactly feel discomfort at a little bit of heat.</p><p>He recalls the sound of John’s voice last night—the soaring highs of last night were quickly plummeting. What felt like nectar rippling through him, now feels like poison his body is desperately trying to spit out. What would Linda call this feeling?</p><p>Surely, anything but shame.</p><p>Just as Lucifer tries to roll out of bed, he feels John’s fingers curling around his wrist.</p><p>“Off to be good, Luci,” John murmurs, with the slightest hint of a smirk on those pillow-pressed cheeks.</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Lucifer rolls his eyes, brushing his hand up the back of John’s neck and through his hair. “I think I’ve had quite my fill of that.”</p><p>John eventually rolls over, squirming as something cracks in his back. He adjusts himself and swears under his breath, but shakes it off and looks up at Lucifer, gazing at him like a particularly curious feline.</p><p>“Need me to fix that up for you?” Lucifer squints.</p><p>“Nah, ‘s alright. Can’t escape from all of my mortal woes.”</p><p>Lucifer nods. Men want the dignity to be able to select their own afflictions. It’s when they don’t get to choose—that’s when they break. They’ve discovered a rather new affliction of his last night, which just so happens to be praise.</p><p>John’s good with his tongue. Everyone and their grandmother with a ghost problem know that.</p><p>His pronunciation of some things—Latin, Sumerian—drags a little bit with that rough mouth of his, but it’s charming, in his own John Constantine way. It’s the simplest of words, really, that really gets to Lucifer. It’s, <em>be good for me, yeah? </em>and then, <em>you’ve got the most gorgeous lips, Luci, </em>and the ever-so-smooth, <em>fuck me like this for the rest of my life and I’ll convert every single person on Earth. </em></p><p>It rattles him, thinking about it now. His pride swells up and just bursts into a bloody mess all over.</p><p>He thinks about how John looked at him, red with unbridled satisfaction. <em>Oh, loosen up, Luci.</em> <em>Not everything is an allegory.</em></p><p>
  <em>Yes, but I’d rather you not try to talk to me like one of Zatanna’s stage assistants. Happy enough with your satisfaction, really. No need to lay it on thick. </em>
</p><p>John tipped his head back and let out an unexpectedly loud laugh. Lucifer frowned and asked what was so apparently funny.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, nothing. Just didn’t expect that you couldn’t take a compliment. You can’t even look at me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s not—I receive compliments plenty, thank you very much.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Right. So what’s this ab—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s because it’s you. I’ve made your life Hell, John. </em>
</p><p>So it’s praise from John Constantine that he can’t quite take. In fact, there’s so much of John Constantine that he often doesn’t know what to do with. Like his sense of morality that springs out of nowhere, swinging like a flared star that would do anything to reach the sector of the universe that needs its light. But he’s also so tired, so worn down.</p><p>His pain originated from their first encounter in Hell all those years ago.</p><p>“Stop being miserable,” John snaps him out of it, shoving a pillow in his face. “Maybe you can get us new pillows for tonight. If Zee comes back from her mission and finds out we’ve torn up her bedroom, then your self-loathing may be the least of our problems.”</p><p>Lucifer spits out the feathers from his mouth. “Spoken like someone who’s been down this road before.”</p><p>“Mate, I live on this road. Don’t mean I want everybody I care about on it, too.” He shuffles out of bed, dragging the rest of the duvet with him and draws open the curtains to welcome the bleak morning sun.</p><p>Ah, yes, the beautiful view of the Zatara family graveyard, against the ever-dreary backdrop of Gotham City.</p><p>“You’ll get used to it,” John turns around, the greyish streaks of light highlighting his bare body.</p><p>“Mmm,” Lucifer hums, still not entirely convinced.</p><p>
  <em>It’s because it’s you. I’ve made your life Hell, John. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hell was just a pit stop, mate. I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m with you. I’m good with that. Aren’t you?</em>
</p><p> </p>
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